Nightmares
by MoreThanWants
Summary: Just a little thought that poked up in my head one night. The first of hopefully many more one-shots and chapter fics coming from this beautiful pairing and show. Teen for a teeny bit of language. Well, the same word used twice.


A note from the author:

Hi guys! Okay, I sat here a few minutes trying to figure out what to say; it's been so long since I've interacted with other writers! While this isn't my first fan-fic, it is one of my first for Once and the first I've actually finished for Outlaw Queen. Or Regal Hood, or Regal Arrow, or whatever we're calling this sure to be hilarious, adorable, slightly heart wrenching ship. I cannot _wait_ until March! Anyway, here goes, and I hope you enjoy it!

She jolted upright, gasping for the air to scream. Her eyes darted, terrified, about the darkened room. Her fingers knotted themselves in the blankets as she tried to will her mind back to reality. The dream was always the same, but no matter how many times she had it, the fear, the cold, blinding, paralyzing fear coursed through her body and mind until she quite nearly forgot where—and who—she was. She always managed to wake up before the truly soul-rending moment came, but lately it had been taking ever-so-slightly longer for her to do so. She never allowed herself to think about it. Well, not past the seconds after her awakening. It was amazing how fast one's mind could work when terror was its fuel.

He was awake an instant later, roused by her sudden movement. He didn't say anything, just sat up and watched the tears stream unimpeded down her face. At first he had tried to sooth her, to comfort her, but quickly learned that in the moments after one of her nightmares—particularly _this_ one—she reverted to her former offensive, _de_fensive, and evil self, glaring at him with a contemptible sneer twisting her otherwise beautiful face. It never lasted more than a few minutes, and she always apologized profusely afterwards, but, as he always insisted, there was no need. He knew she didn't mean it.

So he waited, patiently watching as she bundled the painful memories back into their corner of her mind where they festered, mocking his every attempt to heal her with his love and kindness. His true friendship. He waited for her silent signal, the wiping of her eyes, before touching her gently on the arm and opening his to her. Gathering her still shaking body to him, he leaned back, laying his head on the pillows. Her head rested on his shoulder, one hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, and the other clasping the hand that held her to him, reassuring herself that he was in fact real, and here, and holding her. That she was safe.

They lay silently, listening to the other breathe and to the sounds of the night outside the window. They very rarely said anything after a dream like this. She was busy regaining control over her emotions, he trying to keep from putting his fist through a wall with the rage he felt at the monster who had done this to her. His only consolation was that the bastard was long dead and only mourned by his daughter. And he could hardly begrudge her that, the grief of losing a parent. The girl hadn't known, after all.

But still, the little voice in his head niggled, baring its teeth. What he wouldn't give to have five minutes alone with the bastard.

Whenever he voiced such things, however, she quickly silenced him, saying that such thoughts would only lead to trouble. She knew what a guilty conscience felt like, he didn't. It was a pain she wished on no one. Except perhaps, one person.

He didn't really keep track of who fell asleep first after the dream. He thought it was usually him, though were some nights he remembered her sigh and feeling her whole body go limp, save for the hand that gripped his. On these nights he would softly kiss her hair, inhaling her soft warmth (no longer tinged with fear) and sigh himself. Other nights his last memories were of her softly stroking his chest and the feel of her breath on his skin. Despite everything, these nights held some of the best sleeps he could recall.

Not to say he didn't have nightmares of his own. There was more than one night that he jerked up out of bed, panting and half-yelling himself. She would wake up next to him, eyes wide with surprise and concern. But, unlike him, she did not hesitate to gather him into her arms and cradle his head to her chest, gently rocking. Sometimes she would hum, just two notes, repeated over and over. When asked, she explained that it always worked in soothing her son back to sleep after a bad dream. It worked for him, too. On the nights of his dreams he almost always went back to sleep first, one arm draped across her body, holding onto her just as she held him. He remembered her stroking his hair and the quiet hum of her voice in his ear as he drifted into a more peaceful sleep.

Robin closed his eyes and drank in the scent of her hair and started to hum. Regina shifted, almost startled, to look up at him.

A small smile crept across her face and she whispered, "I love you."

Robin smiled back, pausing in the hum long enough to whisper back, "I love you, too." and kiss her gently on the forehead.

They fell asleep together that night.


End file.
